


Happily Never After

by Alexilulu



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-24 18:30:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20019070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexilulu/pseuds/Alexilulu
Summary: A perfect life cannot be found in this world.





	Happily Never After

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since the Persona 5 Royal PVs have been showing us clips of the characters having happy conversations about alternate lives where the events of the game didn't befall them, i've been obsessed with the idea that Yaldabaoth imprisoned them in their greatest dreams. And...then the Haru PV made my heart collapse thinking about a Kunikazu who is just a little bit nosy in the way that a father is expected to be, interested in their child's life. So...I had to make it sad.

Akira Kurusu stares at his phone, counting the minutes since he last felt warm. The December chill is out in full force today as he waits in a corporate plaza outside a cluster of high-rise business towers, tucked into himself on a bench as closely as he can manage without looking odd or unusual to the office workers leaving for the weekend. They keep precise office hours at Okumura Foods, with overtime allowed in practice but gently discouraged on Sundays by the corporate culture, making it one of the only companies in Japan that does so. The stream of happily chatting men and women in well-tailored suits tells him exactly how well that policy is regarded.

It’s distinctly not how he remembers that company.

He remembers a great many things differently. He woke up one April morning on the train to Tokyo, the memory of his joyfully weeping family seeing him off to start his second year at the exclusive Shujin Academy. He remembers a life of academic achievement, of no particularly close friends to share his life with. And yet under that veneer-thin story, he remembers his life. His real life. He remembers the Phantom Thieves. 

He can remember so clearly a world not like this one, corrupted by vice and evil, the powers that be enabling the worst elements of society to freely exploit the most vulnerable. He had been one of them. And so had his friends. And then his friends and himself found the sickly beating heart inside Tokyo’s deepest depths that enabled it. And then...nothing.

All the worst parts of that life are so clear to him, even now. The exploitation, the lies, the injustice. And the good parts, too: his comrades in arms, his confidants and the strength their fights to survive gave him to battle on. His friends. He’s positive one of them is false. It must be this dreary, saccharine world.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if it’s not.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” The voice of someone closer than a friend to him asks, yanking him firmly back to reality. Haru Okumura stands over him, dressed much more appropriately for the winter than himself in a thick woolen coat and scarf. She smiles down at him, and his mouth goes dry looking up at her.

She doesn’t remember him even a little. None of them do. Ann thinks he’s nothing more than a very smart kid who sits behind her, Ryuji made an effort to get to know him but with the Track team training schedule they don’t see each other much. Futaba goes to a different school, her eye-searing orange hair a drab brown, and he rarely sees her at all.

And not a single one remembers the things he does except him.

“Not at all.” He finally recovers himself enough to speak, shaking his head. “Just enough time to enjoy the scenery.”

Haru looks over her shoulder skeptically up at the corporate plaza, with only a few bare trees and benches like this one to decorate it. “I think there must be some gap between a city-dweller’s sense of beauty and someone born in the country’s sense of aesthetics in play here.” She looks at him again, smiling at her little joke.

“Maybe.” He stands, wincing internally at his joints cracking audibly.

“You were waiting long, weren’t you...I’m sorry. Father’s budget meeting ran longer than we all expected.” The mention of her father sets him on edge. What he sees approaching from behind Haru only serves to heighten that reaction.

“Not as _long_ as your friend here is, Haru.” A dead man comes to a stop next to Haru, looking up at Akira and smiling mischievously. The last time Akira saw Kunikazu Okumura, he was coughing up blood on national television, his gruesome death just days after receiving the Phantom Thieves’ calling card recorded for the world to see. “My word, they grow them tall in the country, don’t they. You must introduce me, dear, I have to know what they fed him so I can make sure we patent it.”

“Father!” Haru rounds on the living ghost, blushing furiously behind her scarf and stomping one foot, a gesture Akira is quite familiar with. “You are being unbelievably rude right now!”

“I know, I know, I’m embarrassing you!” Kunikazu holds up his hands defensively, the smile never leaving his face. “Please, you know I don’t get the chance to meet your friends often, I just want to get to know him.”

“I’m Akira Kurusu.” Akira decides to ford the river of Haru’s anger now and worry about the consequences later. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Okumura.”

“You mustn’t humor him, Kurusu-san, he feeds off of it.” Haru says offhandedly, the majority of her attention turned to her father. Kunikazu, however, turns to him and takes the offered hand, squeezing it with a surprising amount of vigor given the greying hair at his temples and the significant disparity in their heights.

“A pleasure, Kurusu-kun! I’m always delighted to meet schoolmates of Haru’s. I seem to recall hearing something about a transfer student on one of the school newsletters...that wouldn’t be you, would it?”

“I—yes, that’s me.” He’s at an utter loss for words. In all his time with Haru, she had related a great deal about her father, especially in the wake of his death. The man here scarcely resembles the man she knew, even before things took a turn for the worse with the arranged marriage when she entered high school. He had ever been somewhat distant, focused more on squeezing wealth from the bloody stone of his company than with the intimate details of his daughter’s life. This one...cares. Or is doing a surprising job of acting as if he cares, perhaps.

“If you must know, he’s tutoring me in English.” Haru’s settled down to gentle exasperation, sighing. “We should get going before he gets any more nosy, Akira.”

“Ah, a study date, then.” He nods, taking his chin in one hand and studying Akira closely. “I trust you, Kurusu-kun. You have the look of a good man. As I said before, it’s always a pleasure to meet Haru’s friends, and I hope that this will not be the last time.”

“Father…” Haru warns. “Don’t you dare.”

“I think that will be my cue to beat a hasty retreat. Until next time, young man.” Kunikazu gives him a nod and turns away, waving over his shoulder. “Have a good night, dear. Stay out as long as you like!”

“Oh my God.” Haru covers her face, groaning. “I’m so sorry, Kurusu-san, he told me he was going to be staying in the office when I left…He must have snuck past his receptionist after I saw him.” 

“It’s— it’s fine.” Akira manages, smiling as awkwardly as he feels. “He reminds me that my parents aren’t the norm for everyone else.”

“Ah. I’m sorry if seeing him was upsetting.” She finally turns back to him, brushing her hair back behind one ear and looking up at him with genuine concern.

“I meant it as a compliment. I’m glad that he takes such an interest in your life.”

“Mm. He means well, but....” She sighs, crossing her arms and looking back at the building. “His father left him the company at a very young age, and he felt that he was thrust into it far earlier than was right. I’m sure this is his way of making sure that I try to enjoy my youth before I’m thrust into the same world he was.”

Oh, God, it’s not fair. This world, this is the one Haru deserves. One where her greatest concern is her father being overbearing about her first date with a boy from school, passing the college entrance exam, and living the life of a 17 year old girl. Everywhere he turns, his friends have received ideal lives, the ones that they deserved to receive in place of their tormented, cursed circumstances he came to know them by.

“Kurusu-kun?” Haru says, her worry only growing at his prolonged silence.

“I’m fine.” He lies, smiling. “We should get going. No need to keep you in the cold for too long.”

“You’re one to talk. We’ll be stopping for coffee to warm you up, mark my words.” Haru takes his hand, leading him out of the plaza and towards the train station.

* * *

“Here.” Akira leans down around her shoulder, placing a cup of espresso on the table in front of her before sitting down shockingly close to her with his own cup.

“Thank you.” Haru takes a sip, humming appreciatively. “Pretty good. I never would have guessed you lived above a cafe, Kurusu-kun.” A lie; one of the most pervasive rumors around Akira Kurusu is the strange scent of coffee and an unidentifiable spice that lingers wherever he passes. Just another sort of mystique to add to the quiet genius’ social cachet among the students of Shujin Academy. Though...it is strange. She had suggested he bring her home and now here they are, sitting in a cramped booth in an oddly homely cafe. The proprietor smiles kindly to them both, but Kurusu-san simply got behind the counter and fixed them both coffee without a word.

“The owner is a family friend, and it had always been my dream to come to the city and go to university.” He chuckles to himself, looking down at his cup of coffee. “I lucked into Shujin, honestly.”

“That’s not how the faculty would tell your story, I suspect. The fastest completion of the entrance exam on record, with a perfect score. Niijima-chan is fairly glowing of your academic accomplishments, in fact.” That much is true, of course, but Makoto is very happy to do her best to foster an atmosphere of openness and respect regarding learning in the school, regardless of other circumstances in play.

“The student council president is very kind to say so, but I would call it beginner’s luck.” He finally takes a sip of his coffee, shrugging. His expression is wan, somewhere between wistful and regretful.

“Are you happy here, Kurusu-kun?” Haru watches him, maintaining a neutral expression learned in the boardroom, in a dozen mock interviews conducted at Okumura Foods. “In Tokyo.” Sure enough, there’s a flicker of something in his expression, a flash of surprise that he smothers instantly when he smiles.

“I think so. I mean, this is my dream. How could I not be happy to live it.” He looks away, out the door and into the street, where people pass every so often. “Are you happy, Haru? Is your life enough for you to feel satisfied in it?”

“It…” She pauses. On average, she must be. Haru can’t think of a time she’s cried since she was a child, had anything worse than a bad day that passed by the time she awoke the next morning. But...recently, there’s been something off. For months, actually. Ever since the beginning of her third year, there has been something wrong. She hasn’t been able to put a finger on it, put it down to anxiety for the future as she approaches the exit from her high school career, moving on to university and the future.

But what if it’s not that? What if she _does_ feel unhappy, that her unease is a simple unhappiness, some sense of unsettlement with her life? But even if that is so...Why did that feeling coincide so perfectly with the first time she saw Akira Kurusu?

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I haven’t thought much about it.”

“Does that mean that you’re happy?” He pauses, looking back to her. “What if...if a person only experienced pain for the length of their life, anything else they would feel must feel like bliss, wouldn’t it? Only, they wouldn’t have any experience with feeling happy. It would be too unfamiliar for them to even comprehend it. How could they differentiate between nothing and actual, true happiness?”

“I...they surely must, wouldn’t they? Humans can’t survive bearing pain their entire lives. It would break them.” Where is he going with this? Like Kurusu-kun’s example, she can’t quite understand his reasoning, and yet…it resonates in her chest. Like her heart knows precisely what he says, even if she can’t comprehend it.

“That’s my logic. I’m happy now, because the only thing I’ve known before now was unbearable pain, as long as I can remember. The absence of pain must be bliss. That’s why I am happy.”

“Your logic is flawed, Akira. How could you possibly be happy, living a bland life between pleasure and pain? There must have been moments of your life that held no pain at all, only joy. Even just a moment of happiness leaves an indelible mark on someone, they could never forget that feeling.”

 _Have there ever been any of those moments in her life? Even one. You must remember._ She shivers, that feeling of unthinking comprehension falling over her again. Her heart knows exactly what he’s going to say next.

“You’re right. Have you ever felt a moment of happiness, Haru? Even one.”

Her heart skips a beat, then two. Nothing comes. Has she been a prisoner in her own body all her life? How could that be possible? Her stomach churns, nausea rising. She feels suffocated, like something vast has placed it’s grip upon her chest. Like God himself has his eye directly upon her in this moment, crushing her to dust.

Her father does not love her. Not truly. He cares, but he cares in the way that someone responsible for an unavoidable duty must, performing exactly as she expects and no further. He has never spoken a word more florid than she ever thought he would, never expressed a love surpassing. How could she possibly be happy with that?

Her life is a lie.

“Stay with me.” His hand closes over hers, reassuring and gentle. “We’re the only people in here.” When Haru glances over his shoulder to the bar, no one is there. The proprietor has been replaced with—has always been, since they walked in the door—a mannequin, a small white trilby perched on it’s blank brow. “I know. Breathe. You’re breaking out of it.”

If she has never felt joy in her whole life, then what was the point of living? How could a human being exist without joy, only the absence of pain? They can’t. She inhales sharply, the world snapping back into place in her mind. All of this, everything she thought was true, is basest falsehood. Two Haru Okumuras duel for their very existence inside her, the exalted daughter doted upon but never cared for deeply fighting a desperate war against the objectified doll never given anything she did not take for herself, who learned to fight for everything she deserved.

“Don’t let go. You have to fight it. Don’t let that bastard win.” Akira squeezes her hand, the baffled shock and horror that the good daughter Haru feels at his touch crushed by the sheer visceral joy the warrior Haru knows at his presence. Their leader, the man who saved her from despair, came back for her. She won’t lose now, not while he’s at her side. With one sharp exhalation, Haru shatters the last vestige of hold the false world held over her, shaking as the realization of what she’s gone through hits her.

“Akira.” She says, shocked and feeling suddenly exhausted like she had been crying for hours.

“I’m right here.” He embraces her, holding her as carefully as he had in the depths of her despair over Father. “It’s good to have you back.”

“Is everyone else...like I was?” She can’t bear to look over Akira’s shoulder, at the mannequin Sojiro standing impassively behind the counter, so she buries her face in his shoulder instead. It’s hard not to feel like she’s falling apart as she tries to reckon with the mess that has been made in her head by the false god’s touch, the image of her father as she knew him for what felt like years clashing horrifically with the truth of his life.

“Yeah. It gave them what they wanted most, I think. I…” He laughs. “I think it didn’t know what to do with me. I got the most generic happy ending of us all.”

“It couldn’t give you what you wanted, dear.” Haru pats his shoulder twice and he pulls back, backing up out of the booth and giving her room to move.

“Why do you think that?” Akira raises an eyebrow.

“Because I know that the only thing you wanted in this world was to put a bullet straight through that thing’s heart.” She smiles when recognition dawns on him, his stunned look morphing into a wicked grin.

“You know what? I think you’re right. And you know what else?” A flare of blue fire flashes over his face, the distinctive mask of Joker left in its wake. “I’m through playing along with their bullshit. You ready to raise some hell?”

“Darling…” Haru reaches up, her vision blocked by the same blue flame as Noir’s mask settles on her face. “I thought you’d never ask.”


End file.
